The Flipside
by Kristen999
Summary: Warrick and a frantic moment. Post Grave Danger


Title: The Flip Side

Author: Kristen999

Category: Angst

Spoilers: "Grave Danger"

Disclaimer: All rights belong to CBS and all their fine writers. Please don't sue. This is just for fun.

Summary: Warrick and a frantic moment. Post "Grave Danger"

Notes: This must be the shortest thing I've ever written. Yes, more GD stuff, since its such a wonderful source of writing.

* * *

"No!"

He scampers down on his hands and knees, franticly searching, stretching beyond his means. His slender fingers feel out dust patches, pieces of junk wedged underneath, and the tips slide across something sticky. Warrick slaps his hands around first to the left, then to the right, covering the linoleum parts in between. His heart lurches in his chest, beating so hard he knows its going to burst from the strain.

The CSI readjusts his body, all his weight resting on his right hand, that anxious left one hunting after the object that slipped from his grip only moments earlier. His cheeks are warm, burning from renewed vigor and an unbinding terror. The criminalist allows more than one profanity to slip, as he keeps coming up empty.

Warrick ignores Catherine's voice behind him. She's now down on the ground trying to help, but isn't quite sure why there is such an urgency.

"Damn it!" He curses again, as it seems all these fruitless endeavors will result in failure.

'No, I'm not going to give up.'

His bumps his head against the machine with a thud and he ignores the pain that shoots from his forehead through his skull. His breathing is rapid, sweat dots his brow from the stress. Warrick moves down several inches and continues the quest towards a new area. It couldn't have gone far, it still has to be here ... somewhere.

Now he hears Catherine call out his name, but he blatantly ignores her.

"Where did it go?" He asks, his voice cracking from nerves.

Catherine tentatively places her hand on his shoulder... he still dismisses her concern.

A heavy sigh echoes in the empty room.

"Rick."

No response.

"Warrick!"

He spins around on his heel so fast that he almost falls down from his crouched position. His green eyes blazing, the desperateness reflected in the iris. Warrick's lips tremble slightly, he fixes his boss with an icy stare.

"I've got to find it, Cath...I-I can't lose it."

Catherine's face almost crumbles at the raw emotion of fear displayed by her friend. She grasps his hand tightly, trying to give him some connection.

"All right. Fine." She says it softly, no pity, no outward expression of deep sorrow that can't be placed right now.

Warrick swallows hard, and nods his head vehemently. He stands up and eyes the object of his confrontation. Much more focused, he shoves it hard, but it doesn't budge.

"Let me help." She offers.

Both of them in unison push hard, timing the thrusts and the machine slightly gives, squeaking on the floor.

Its not enough and his pules races again. He grunts and growls at this obstacle. Now he's just an animal and the emotions that were barley locked away are just on the verge of breaking down.

It doesn't move nearly enough and he's loosing the battle. Frantic, he slams his shoulder against it. The sound of flesh and bone resonates in the tiny room.

Now Catherine stands back, hand over her mouth, as she gapes in shock as such careless disregard.

"Please, Warrick...stop it." A tear slips down her face.

She's not in the room again. With sheer anger and brute force, he tackles the damn thing. He ignores the protests his shoulder sends his way. Finally, after the third time, the machine finally gives and moves sideways.

As soon as it budges, Warrick is back down on the floor, that anxious hand clutching at the tile again. Then after several excruciating seconds... he feels it.

His fingers brush along the metal. Pushing his body forward...his fingernail scrapes it and as he pulls it free.

He lets out a choked sob of triumph and cradles the object in his hands. Warrick wipes away moisture from his eyes, his legs sprawled out in front of him.

Catherine kneels in front of him, her cheeks wet from her own emotions and she is still clueless as to why.

"I'm sorry, I ever asked you for something to drink." She whispers.

Warrick sniffs and opens his palm. In the center of it, is a coin. A shiny silver one, not enough to buy a coke, but it was never meant to purchase anything.

It fell out of his wallet while he tried to find some change for his boss. But it slipped out of his wallet and rolled away.

His heart had almost stopped, but now it was safe. Warrick rubbed the coin, caressing it.

"Ssshhh,..its okay, Warrick. He's going to be fine." Catherine tries to reassure him, her throat constricting slightly.

Warrick carefully places this precious object in a compartment of his wallet. Safely tucked away.

He looks up at his colleague, shaking his head. "He has to be." Warrick says, his voice breaking.

The CSI looks past Catherine towards a door. They haven't been allowed to see Nick yet. He was still being settled in. His partner's sobs of terror still ring in his ears. Warrick's hand is still crampy from how hard Nick had been squeezed it during the ride to the ER.

He fingers his wallet, feeling the coin stuffed away.

_"I'd do two out of three, but I know you have a gambling problem...On second thought, why don't you keep it. Its bad luck," then its tossed in the air and Warrick catches it with a smile._

Warrick closes his eyes. Just a simple flip of a coin, he thinks. Then he grabs Catherine around her neck and rests his head on her shoulder, as that memory burns like an effigy in his mind.

Fin-


End file.
